An Iron Cross
by 2lieutenant
Summary: What did Newkirk do with the medal he had filched from the Colonel in Color the Luftwaffe Red? Bronze-Best Story Based On Episode Papa Bear Awards 2018


**Disclaimer: I do not own _Hogan's Heroes_ or profit from writing.**

 **Author's Note: This is my first foray into the world of Hogan's Heroes fanfic. Feel free to point out any mistakes or inconsistencies. I wrote this to try to get over my blank page syndrome. So, it's not great, but hey, it's a start.**

 **Shangri-La comes from the beginning of the episode. Hogan made a comment about the officer coming to Shangri-La. He was referring to Stalag 13.**

Newkirk fingered the medal in his pocket all the way back to camp. It had been a pleasure to filch it from that Colonel. What a pompous man he had been! Know his place, indeed! He'd love to be there when the Colonel found his Iron Cross was gone.

Back at the camp, Newkirk sneaked into Colonel Hogan's room. He placed the medal on his bunk. If anyone deserved the Iron Cross, it was the Colonel. He was the bravest man Newkirk knew. He ran a "traveler's aid," organized sabotage, and also pretty much ran the whole camp. He did all this without ever complaining. He regularly risked his life sneaking out to meet some new Underground agent. He had willingly given up flying, a thing he loved, to be captured by Krauts to run a dilapidated camp and everything that went with it. If that wasn't brave, Newkirk didn't know what was.

The next day, after roll call, Hogan motioned for Newkirk to come into his room.

"Newkirk," he began.

"I wanted to, sir," Newkirk cut in. "If anybody deserves it, it's you."

Hogan was touched. "Thank you, Newkirk, that means a lot. But I want you to keep it. You deserve this just as much as anybody. You regularly put your life on the line completing some mission that's pretty nigh impossible and also crazy."

"Not doing anything none of the others wouldn't do, Gov'nor. Please, sir, I want you to have it. What would I do with it? Wear it on my uniform?"

Hogan grinned, "Don't think Klink would appreciate that. But if I take it I couldn't do anything with it, either. Knowing you, Newkirk, you'll find some way to use it. Who knows? Perhaps we'll give it to Klink when we need a diversion. Please, Newkirk, take it. I could make that an order."

Newkirk pocketed the medal. "Alright, sir, if you insist."

Nothing more was spoken about it. Newkirk kept the medal in his foot locker. He'd take it out every once in awhile to polish it. Others saw it, but said not a word. Even Carter kept his curiosity to himself, a fact which Newkirk viewed as nothing short of a minor miracle.

It wasn't until Carter took a dive down into the well, that Newkirk even took it out for more than a look and a polish.

None of them knew it was going to bother Carter that much to go down the well. After all, as Carter had said, he took a bath every Saturday. Surely that proved he wasn't afraid of water. He was in pretty good health. About as healthy as you could expect from a POW. Sure, he was skinny, but that was just how he was built. At least, that was what Newkirk had told himself. He should have known Carter wasn't a big fan of water. He'd seen how Carter had gulped when the Colonel told him he would be the one to go. And then he and the Colonel had to make those remarks about Carter being a 'natural frogman,' and how Hogan would sign the transfer papers for the Navy if they asked for him. That was when Carter had had the last straw. He threw the blanket off and said, "If you guys don't mind, I'll see myself home." He'd hobbled back to the barracks shivering.

Newkirk felt terrible. He hadn't meant to hurt Carter's feelings, but he had and nothing could change that. He had glanced at the Colonel and a look of guilt passed between them. Hogan, for teasing him; Newkirk, for not seeing sooner his pal didn't enjoy taking baths in ice-cold wells.

After Newkirk had returned the codebook, he went in search of Carter. He found him down in his lab, talking to Felix.

"They didn't know, of course," he whispered to Felix, "but I didn't appreciate all the teasing." He sighed and looked up to find a very dejected looking Newkirk.

"Hey, Newkirk. Boy, that sure was lucky we managed to get our hands back on that codebook." He fell silent. Newkirk sat down next to him. The two sat there in the silence for a while.

At last, Newkirk spoke, "I'm sorry, Carter."

"About what?"

"You know. Teasing you and not realizing you didn't like water. I'm really sorry, mate."

Carter smiled. "It's okay, Newkirk. I know you didn't mean it."

"Still, I shouldn't have. Well, I want to give this to you." Newkirk pulled out the Iron Cross and placed it in Carter's hand. He got up and climbed up the ladder, leaving a gaping Carter staring after him. Carter folded his hand around the medal and smiled. He carefully put Felix in his pocket, and climbed up the ladder after Newkirk. Once he got to the top, he headed for Newkirk's bunk.

"Thank you," he said.

Newkirk smiled and went back to writing his letter.

All was well in Shangri-La.


End file.
